


The Worst Kind of Good-Byes

by lesqui



Category: Throne of Glass Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-07-13
Packaged: 2020-06-27 12:11:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19790638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesqui/pseuds/lesqui
Summary: When a strange man stumbles into her dream, Rania can't find it in her to kick him out, not when he looks at her with such sad eyes, not when he touches her in such a careful way, not when she goes and loses her heart to him.ORThe story of a girl, and a boy, and a swing by a river, and colliding worlds.





	The Worst Kind of Good-Byes

**Author's Note:**

> My next contribution to this fandom by providing more of the Fenrys fics we all need :)

The first time they met was at her swing, the one she’d built and hung on an old tree so that when the rope arced far enough, her toes broke the top of the river.

He was sitting, not on her swing, but on the riverbank beside it. Long, golden hair fluttered in the breeze, and his shirt – if she could call it that – was pulled taut over corded muscles as he hunched over himself, hugging his knees to his chest and staring across the water.

He looked so small, so tired and _broken_ , and maybe that’s why she didn’t tell him to leave, didn’t tell him that this was her place, her river, her swing.

Instead, she approached them – him and the swing – settling carefully onto the wood plank and digging her toes into the mud, rocking back and forth slowly. He was so still, so silent, she thought for a moment that maybe he was dead. How sad, to die and be stuck in such a sad, forlorn position for eternity.

But then he raised his head, turning to look at her, blinking large, onyx eyes. She blinked back, unashamed and unapologetically curious. After all, no one had ever joined her at her swing before.

The golden hair framed a lovely, dark face, his eyes like sparkling jewels reflecting the sunlight as it danced off the water. There was something sad about them, though; so very old and tired and _sad._

 _Broken_ , she thought.

Neither of them spoke, and she put a little more force behind her kicks, beginning to glide back and forth through the air. He tracked her wordlessly, and she urged the swing a little higher.

Somewhere in her tree – because it _was_ her tree, just as it was her swing and her river – birds chirped and sang happily. She wondered if perhaps they were his birds, this stranger’s, because they had never been there before him.

“You know,” she was the one to finally break the silence, “it’s rude to trespass in someone’s dream.”

He frowned slightly, continuing to track her every movement, watching with an odd sort of intensity as she loosened her grip on the ropes and slid towards the edge of the swing, stretching out her toes to hit the water.

“I didn’t realise I was.”

Water droplets rained around her legs as she began the return arc. “Of course you are. You didn’t think this came ready-made, did you?” She even offered a brief smile – or as best a one she could manage – to show no true insult.

Still, his frown deepened further. “I didn’t realise I was dreaming.”

What an odd thing to say, she thought, but she had already come to the conclusion that he was an odd man. “Well,” she splashed the water again, feeling as if everything was slowly melting out of her, leaving nothing but an empty sort of peace, “you are. Hello. Welcome to my favourite dream.”

Finally, that frown softened slightly, though his eyes remained so sad and tired. “Hello. Do you come here often?”

“Oh,” she took the swing as high as she dared, feeling for half a breath as if she could truly fly, “at least twice a week.”

“Why?” It was an inviting sort of curiosity with which he spoke, offering her an ear or a shoulder if she wanted.

She found, for once, that she did. “Life just gets hard sometimes. I get really sad. Lonely. Depressed. I’m supposed to get medication soon to help with it all.”

He seemed to consider everything she had said, never once looking away from her. “You could get hurt if you go too high,” he murmured almost off-handedly as her grip nearly slipped.

“Nonsense,” though she did tighten her hold. “My own dream won’t hurt me.” He didn’t answer, and she slowed her swinging enough to hold decent conversation. “Why are you here, anyways?”

That frown returned; though, she had to admit, even with his frown, he truly was handsome in an otherworldly way. “I don’t know.” She blinked at him, curious and unwilling to pry, and he sighed quietly. “I think I’m dying.”

“Oh.” She stopped swinging entirely, staring at the river, not sure what to say. How sad, to be dying in such a way. “Well,” she looked at him directly, “would you like to swing with me?”

He didn’t smile, but some of the tension faded from his body. He stood slowly, stiffly, limping towards her and the swing and settling into the space beside her. “Thank you.”

It was said with such solemnness, such severity, and she shrugged, shifting to allow him to hold the ropes, his hands nearly dwarfing hers in size. “You’re welcome.”

They began to move, his longer legs doing the work as she simply sat and basked in the wind and the sunshine and the freedom of movement through air. He was careful and gentle, and though they didn’t get far enough for her to touch the water, she didn’t mind it much.

“You can let go,” he murmured after a few minutes, and she twisted her head to look at him. Still, there was no smile, but his face was the softest she’d seen it since she’d arrived. “I won’t let you fall.”

And somewhere, something inside of her warmed and melted and shivered at the promise in those words. “Smooth-talker.”

Still no smile, still no laugh, but she released the ropes, leaning more into him, into his strength, his solidity, his warmth. The birds danced and sang above them, and the breeze rippled through the trees, whispering kindly.

“I’m Rania, by the way.” How rude of her, to not have introduced herself immediately. Not that he’d been much better.

“Nice to meet you, Rania.” There was such formality in those words, as if he was used to reciting them at ever-so-important events. “I’m Fenrys.”

She smiled slightly. “Like the wolf.”

He made an odd noise in the back of his throat. “Yes,” though he sounded so confused, “I suppose so.” It came out as a question, but she remained silent, lost to the swing and the breeze and the birds; lost in his warmth, his movements.

She wasn’t sure how long they stayed that way, but he stiffened suddenly, stopping the swing and moving away mechanically. “I have to go.”

“Oh.” Rania twisted around to look at him. “Will you be back?” She had liked having him here, liked his presence and his voice.

“I don’t know,” and he looked so pained suddenly. “I don’t know if this is truly a dream.”

“Well,” what an odd thing to say, “what else could it be?”

He stared at her for a moment longer, the sunlight reflecting in those onyx eyes, and then dipped his head slightly. “Indeed.”

He was gone before she could figure out an appropriate response, distracted as she had been by his suddenly-revealed ears which were, not rounded like hers, but tapered into sharp points.

An odd man, but this had been an unusually odd dream, and she hoped, distantly, that he’d be back. She’d been right, too – he’d brought the birds with him.

* * *

The seventh time they met was a particularly bad night for both of them.

Each meeting since the first had been a little longer, a little sweeter, a little warmer. The sunlight was brighter, the water clearer, the birds more numerous. Her swing went higher and breeze smelled sweeter.

Each meeting, they had sat together on the swing, and Fenrys had nearly cradled her with a careful sort of gentleness, as if afraid he’d break her if he breathed too hard. She’d lean into his side, tucking herself into him as far as she could, letting him do the work and selfishly enjoying the moments of touch, of warmth, of soft intimacy.

Each meeting, they’d talk. He’d let her ramble about her thoughts, treating each of her flighty questions with careful, serious consideration. In return, she’d listen as he spoke – vaguely and brokenly – about his life outside of this shared dream.

Something about a demon-queen, a fire-queen, a brother, a future, a world to be built upon the hopes and tenacity of dreamers. Nothing she truly understood, but she did understand the haunted flickers of shadows in his eyes when he spoke, and she’d offer her hand. Something he could use to ground himself, a touch of a friend. Sometimes he took it, squeezing so hard her bones creaked, and sometimes he didn’t.

She knew it was the truly bad times when he didn’t.

He didn’t the seventh time they met. He didn’t even stand from his seat on the riverbank when she approached, didn’t turn to greet her, and Rania, already choking on tears and swirling in a sort of mindless limbo, sat beside him. The mud was cold, soaking through her jeans as she pulled her knees to her chest, hugging them close and resting her cheek on top of them, staring at the side of his face as he stared across the river.

Such a perfect, beautiful face. Flawless and ethereal and not at all human. She hadn’t asked what he was – that seemed a proper rude question – but she knew, she _knew_ he wasn’t human. She could feel it in her bones when they sat beside each other, feel it across her skin when they touched, hear it in his words when he spoke; see it in those onyx eyes when they flickered to finally look at her.

Eyes old and tired and sad, and that day they were a little older and a little more tired and a little sadder.

Exhaustion dragged at her, lulled her into a near-comatose state, but she managed enough energy to smile. “Hello, Fenrys.”

He didn’t smile, hardly breathed, and when she said his name, silver lined his eyes, sparkling like the river in the sun. “They burned her today.”

Rania held her hand out to him. He didn’t take it.

She let it rest on the ground between them, just in case. “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t hers to apologise for, but someone had to apologise for that cruelty that was tearing apart his heart and mind. “I’m sorry, Fenrys.”

He swallowed, a small, glimmering tear leaving a trail down his cheek. “I can’t help her. They make me watch.” His eyes closed, and she wondered what he was seeing, wondered if he was reliving it or trying to escape it. “I could smell it, I could _taste_ it –”

He jerked away from her, rolling onto his hands and knees and vomiting into the river. Rania moved, too, kneeling beside him and pulling his long, beautiful hair from his face. She trembled with that exhaustion – realising distantly she hadn’t eaten at all that day – but he absolutely _shook,_ falling back onto his heels and folding over himself.

She stayed with him, bending over him, around him, trying to make herself bigger than him, bigger than all of it. Doing for him what she wished so often someone would do for her.

He shattered there, on her riverbank, in her arms, and she held him, closing her eyes and hoping he wouldn’t notice her own tears. Tears for him, tears for herself – for the wretched creatures that they were and the endless cycle of breaking apart and trying to mend.

He was warm, though, and he smelled softly of something familiar and soothing. It was enough to push back the tears, push back the gaping emptiness in her. _He_ was enough.

The breeze rustled and the water burbled, and the sunshine was a comfort on her back. They sat, and they _breathed_ , and she wasn’t sure how long it had been, but he uncurled slowly. She did, too, and he turned so they were face-to-face. His cheeks were raw from crying, eyes swollen, but he was still so beautiful.

She sniffled quietly and tried to smile again.

He didn’t return it, but some of the shadows faded from his eyes.

Broken smiles from broken creatures.

“Thank you, Rania.” The words were as raw as his cheeks, scraping down her ears as if she could feel his pain.

“You’re welcome,” and when she held out her hand again, he carefully curled his own larger one around it.

They didn’t sit on the swing that day, but he urged her closer until she was leaning against him in the same way, until his arms were draped around her in the same way, and something small and bright and calm fluttered with relief in her chest.

Curious, she thought, that she’d been able to hear his heartbeat as she’d been curled around him, head resting on his back.

Curious, that her own heartbeat had shifted until there had only been one rhythm.

* * *

The tenth time they met was the first time she saw him smile.

He was gently rocking back and forth on the swing when she arrived, staring at the river – not emptily as they so often did, but with a new sort of sparked interest. His hair fluttered with his movements and the breeze, and he turned to greet her when she sat beside him.

“Good afternoon, Rania.”

She smiled slightly. “It’s morning for me.”

A golden brow arched. “An odd time to have a dream.”

Rania shrugged a shoulder. “Depression naps are good for something, I guess.”

He was quiet, seeming to consider her words before choosing his response. “While I can infer a meaning from that, I’m not sure what, exactly, _you_ mean by it.”

He sounded so formal, so carefully polite, that she couldn’t help her small snort of laughter. “Short version: my brain doesn’t work proper, and the medication that’s supposed to help hasn’t done the greatest job, so I’m tired all the time and decided that today I’d take a nap at ten-thirty in the morning.”

A soft noise came from the back of his throat, and there was a lingering moment of silence before he said, “Well, I suppose I’m glad I get to see you. It’s not the same when you’re not here.”

That caught her attention. “You come here without me?”

“Of course,” and she almost thought she heard mischief in his voice, feeble and as tired as he was, “it’s not just yours anymore.”

Another snort of laughter burst out of her, and, to her delight, the corners of his mouth twitched upwards. It was so slight she thought she was imagining it – just like she was sure she was imagining the mischief in his eyes. But, no, it was there.

It crinkled the corners of his eyes upwards just enough for her to know, in that moment, that he had a face made for smiling. And she knew that he had a voice made for laughing. A heart made for loving. A mind made for joy.

And it broke her heart, a pain deep and piercing and throbbing, that whatever hell he was in didn’t allow him to live for that which he had been made.

She wanted to hug him, to hold him, to whisper promises of a hopeful future to him – but she couldn’t. Those weren’t her hugs to give or her promises to make.

So, she said, “You never asked to share.”

His ghost of a smile stayed as it was, but his eyes absolutely _sparkled_. “No,” he mused, “I don’t suppose I did.”

Rania smiled back. “I guess I can forgive you. Ya know, since you’re so cute and all.”

To her utter delight, her words seemed to startle him, as if he wasn’t used to any sort of positive affirmation. Her heart broke all over again, but she shoved it down and away. That was not the time to acknowledge breaking hearts or their painful realities.

Fenrys managed to recover from his surprise in the next breath. “That’s quite the compliment from such a beautiful creature.”

And she laughed. More than just a snort, more than a half-forced giggle. True, deep, _honest_ laughing that made something in her sing and glitter with a golden sort of joy. It had been, she realised, a very long time since she’d felt that.

His almost-smile returned, and they simply watched each other, basking in the happiness they’d managed to create around them. A protective bubble of warmth and safety and love, and when she held out her hand, he immediately curled his own around it.

“Do you think,” she asked him quietly, “that things will truly get better the way everyone says it will?”

Fenrys’s smile faded. “I’ve learned,” and his voice reflected the old, tired, sadness of his eyes, “in my century or so of living, that Everyone doesn’t know nearly as much as they think they do.”

Rania simply accepted his oddly long life span, squeezing his fingers gently. “That’s a very sad thing to learn.”

Those onyx eyes were curious as they studied her. “Have you learned different?”

“I don’t know,” she squeezed his fingers again. “Things haven’t been better for a very long time now.”

Fenrys shifted a little closer, offering his sturdiness as he always did. “The issue, Rania,” her name off his tongue, in his voice, _oh, but it was the best thing she’d ever heard,_ “is that I’m not sure I can wait for things to be better.”

 _I think I’m dying,_ he’d said that first time. Rania did her best to smother the tears clogging her throat and prickling behind her eyes. “I’d promise they will,” she whispered, “but I might be lying.”

He released her hand, wrapping her in both his arms, until she was surrounded by him, by everything that he was. His cheek rested on top of her head, and she could feel his heartbeat, a familiar, soothing rhythm by then.

“So, don’t promise,” he said simply. “Just sit with me.”

She did. She did just that, near melting into his hold and his warmth and his solidity, letting him hold her together for just a few moments. The breeze danced around them, the birds singing, sunshine warming her legs.

“One day,” she asked quietly, “will you stop coming here?”

She felt him swallow a small breath. “Maybe. But I’ll make sure to say good-bye.”

It wasn’t the promise she wanted, but she knew it was the best she’d get. “Thank you.” The words were barely more than air.

His arms tightened around her briefly. “Besides _her,_ you’re my best reason.”

Rania didn’t ask what for. She already knew. What a weight to carry, she thought, but she found that she didn’t mind.

* * *

The fifteenth time they met, she truly did think Fenrys was going to die.

There were bruises on his body, dark circles beneath his eyes from lack of sleep, and though he turned to look at her as she approached, she could tell he wasn’t really seeing her.

Rania carefully knelt beside him, reaching to cup his face. He flinched back, and she froze, lowering her hands slowly.

“Fenrys.” His name was barely more than a breath, and he gasped, body shuddering with the breath, tears trickling steadily down his cheeks.

“Glass,” he choked out, “she made her crawl through glass.”

Rania tried her best to hide the cringe, not quite sure she’d succeeded. “I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say. And there was more. She could tell there was more.

Fenrys squeezed his eyes closed, bowing over himself. “My brother killed himself.”

Everything in their dream paused, the sunlight flickering, the sound of the river fading, and Rania swallowed. “How can I help you?”

His eyes opened again. “I don’t know,” and there was such rawness, such pain, such desolation and hopelessness. He choked on a sob. “ _I don’t know.”_

Rania sniffled, swallowing her own tears. “Can I touch you?”

Those onyx eyes studied her for a moment, and then he nodded slowly, and she carefully shifted until his head was in her lap. Her fingers ran through his long, golden hair, careful and gentle, and she watched as his tears continued, small and silent, as if he expected no help to come. As if he truly had no hope left.

“She made me fuck her right there next to his body.” The words broke the silence that had settled between them, and nausea roiled in Rania’s stomach.

“I’ll kill her.”

Fenrys opened his eyes and looked up at her, and though he didn’t smile, there was a quiet sort of amusement glinting behind the tears. “I’m sure you would.”

Rania managed a small smile for him, rubbing some of the tears away with her thumbs. “How do I help you, Fenrys?”

He just stared at her. “I promised I’d say good-bye.”

And Rania’s tears sprang to her eyes again, clogging her throat and making it difficult to breathe. “No,” she said quietly, “you’re not allowed to leave.”

And he smiled, and it was so broken and so beautiful, and when he reached a hand up to wipe away her tears as she had his, she leaned into his touch. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” she tried to sound for all the world as if the thought of never seeing him again wasn’t shattering her heart, “just come back.”

His tears flowed a little more quickly. “I’m tired, Rania. I’m so tired.”

“Me, too,” it might have been a snap, if not for the sob that came out at the same time, “but you don’t get to just _quit._ ” He simply watched her with those eyes, so old and tired and sad. Her face crumpled. “ _Please don’t.”_

She was his best reason. He’d said so. And, well, some days, he was hers.

She tangled her fingers in his hair, leaning her face into his hand and trying not to completely lose the tenuous grasp she had on self-control and sanity. “I need you, Fenrys.” There were other words, another three words, but this didn’t quite seem the time to say them. “Please don’t.”

He sniffled, wiping her tears as fast as they came, and she wiped away his own. That beautiful, terrible smile still curled his lips. “I’m so tired, Rania. I want it all to be over.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I understand, I _do._ ” And she knew that he knew just how well and intimately she understood. “But _please_.” Words failed her then, and she let it linger at that, let him hear everything she couldn’t say in the moment.

_Please come back._

_Please don’t let this be good-bye._

He held her gaze, those onyx eyes seeing so much more than anyone else ever had, and she stared back, letting him see it, know it, willing to give him all she was because she needed him, _she needed him_.

After a moment, he exhaled deeply and sat up, facing her, so close their knees were touching. “Are you always so bossy?”

And she gasped and laughed and cried, falling over herself and into him, hugging him so tightly she could feel his heartbeat through their clothes, inhaling his scent and his presence and absolutely refusing to let him go. He returned the hug, wrapping her in his familiar strength, pressing his face to her hair and inhaling deeply.

They stayed that way for a long time, listening as the sunshine and the sound of the river and the birdsong returned.

* * *

Despite his promise, Rania didn’t see him again.

It hurt, at first, a truly deep, sharp pain that left her crying and gasping. But then it didn’t hurt so much, and then she got used to her dream without him once more, and then one day she woke up and realised it had been nearly a month since she’d gone to her swing by her river. Nearly a month since she’d needed to.

The new medication was working, it seemed, and though thoughts of Fenrys still ached slightly, it was with a bittersweet flavour. Their hugs, their moments of silence together. The tears they’d shared and wiped away for each other. _I need you,_ she’d said. And she had, but those hadn’t really been the words she’d been trying to say.

She wondered if he knew.

She wondered how he was, because he wasn’t dead. She refused to believe he was; and some smaller, hidden part of her knew that she’d be able to tell if he was. Perhaps his fire-queen had lived to burn the world and build it anew, like a phoenix from the ashes.

She hoped so.

And so that’s what she started dreaming of, a world burned and rebuilt, a fire-queen with her ice-king, a place of love and hope, and somewhere in there was Fenrys free and healing and remembering what it was to be happy.

Her dreams started small, glimpses of a forest and beautiful white stag, of others with the otherworldly beauty of Fenrys. Sometimes she dreamt of a library filled with the golden warmth of sunlight, other times of snow-capped mountains glittering in the sunset.

And one day, she dreamed of a palace, of a room within, with a large bed and a larger bookshelf, of a fireplace with a roaring fire and chairs nearby where one could curl up and enjoy the warmth and the light. There were large windows, the curtains pulled open despite the cold, and the firelight danced along the crystals of the snow piled in the corner of the windows.

Rania turned slowly, inspecting the room. It held that warmth of being lived in, the familiarity of something that had been made a home.

“You know,” the voice was familiar behind her as it drawled the words, “it’s rude to trespass in someone’s private room.”

She spun, heart lurching in her chest.

He stood, just there, just beyond arm’s reach, the firelight turning his golden hair sparkling and shining brightly in his onyx eyes. Rania gasped, not quite willing to believe it, not quite wanting it to be true.

A small grin curled on Fenrys’s lips. “I tried to go back to the river, but it doesn’t exist anymore.”

Rania remembered how to breathe, sucking in a deep breath. “I didn’t need it anymore.”

“Oh?” He took a small step towards her. “Why not?”

She didn’t answer, staring at him. “What is this?”

Fenrys gestured slightly. “My room in the queen’s castle.”

She had so many questions. None of this made sense. “How am I here?”

A furrow appeared between his brows. “I actually don’t know.”

Rania swallowed. “If I touch you, will you disappear?”

He laughed at that, and it was the most beautiful thing she had ever heard. “No, my sweet Rania.”

She launched herself at him, and he caught her easily. Her arms fit around him so familiarly, as if they had been made to hold him, and he squeezed her back, burying his face in her hair as he’d so often done and inhaling. She could feel his heart thundering in his chest, could feel her own matching its rhythm.

“I missed you,” she whispered into his shoulder.

He smiled into her hair. “I missed you, too.”

“Fenrys?”

“Yes?”

Rania tightened her grip slightly. “I don’t want to go back.”

“So, stay,” was his simple reply. “Stay with me.”

She was crying again, tears of happiness, of overwhelming emotion. “I think I could manage that.”

He pulled back just enough to set her down, bringing a hand up to carefully dry her tears. “You’re so beautiful.”

She rolled her eyes, not bothering to hide her smile. “You’re so corny.”

And he laughed again, and it was a sound that stopped and restarted her heart. “Thank you,” he murmured, “for not letting me say good-bye.”

She smiled, staring into those onyx eyes. “You’re welcome.”

Her mind was whirling. She had so much to learn about this new world, this dream world which had suddenly become reality. And yet, she felt no remorse, no fear on leaving behind her own life and her own world.

What an adventure this would be, and she would have Fenrys.

In the firelight, in the warmth of the room and each other, she hugged him again, pressing her face into his shirt and tangling her fingers in his hair. “I think I love you, Fenrys.”

He hugged her back, carefully smoothing her hair from her face and tilting it up to look at him. “I think I love you, too.”

* * *

The first time they kissed was there, in the firelight, surrounded by peace and love and happiness, dream and reality colliding until it didn’t matter which was which. Nothing mattered except his fingers on her skin as they gently cupped her face, his body bent over hers as she stretched up – nothing, except the stars that danced bright and brilliant, full of promises and beauty as his lips touched hers.

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to do a "worlds collide" type thing, and this fit easiest for being a one-shot. Perhaps in the future, I'll do a full-length fic of Fenrys with a lovely Earth fem. 
> 
> Hope you guys enjoyed!


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